You're No Fun, Takkun
by nico420
Summary: A late night conversation between Naota and Haruko (not too long after she moves in).


**I do not own FLCL or any of the following characters.**

* * *

><p>After his bath, Naota returned to his room, which he was sharing with Haruko at the time. He expected her to be rolling around on the floor—talking to his cat, Miyu Miyu, or something eccentric like that—but he opened the door to find her practicing her bass. Instead of thrashing around, and wailing like a banshee, the extraterrestrial appeared to be in one of her calmer states. She was sitting cross-legged on the top bunk, bent over her instrument; plucking at the strings with her left hand, while she formed basic chords with her right; pressing her slender fingers against the fretboard. Her fingers were perfect for playing bass. Naota closed the door behind him, throwing his towel in the hamper. Haruko peered up at him from behind strands of pink hair that obscured her vibrant, green eyes. Naota froze, like a deer caught in headlights. Those lime-colored orbs pierced right through his blue ones; penetrating his soul, and branding his insides. A shiver ran up his spine. There was something intense and dangerous that burned and flickered in them. He felt as though he was being watched by a snake in the grass; he was afraid to move out of fear that she might lunge.<p>

"Hey, Takkun." Haruko strummed her bass. A single note reverberated throughout the room.

Two nights had come to pass since the "house-keeper" had moved in, and tonight was no less awkward than the first. It was far less bizarre, though. At least no foreign entities had popped out of Naota's head. Speaking of which, that dumb robot was living here now, too. _Living _here! What's up with _that?!_

The ringing faded out, and stillness settled back over the room, but the silence was louder than Haruko's guitar. The deep twang resonated off the walls of Naota's vacant skull. It reminded him of that first night with Haruko, when the echoes of raised voices had faded like the last few snowflakes that floated down from the cieling after the room had been shaken like a snowglobe.

Naota sprawled out on the bottom bunk, crossing his arms behind his head. Haruko bent over the edge of the top bunk and peered down. She stared at him, twinkling with mock innocence. Naota furrowed his eyebrows. He was still uncomfortable about sharing a room with her. For one thing, she was a slob—her crap was all over the floor—and he knew that she went through his possessions when he wasn't around. Not to mention, there was that whole thing about being the opposite sex. How awkward is _that? _The bottom line, however, was that she was weird. Even if she hadn't come from space, like she'd claimed, there was something alien about her.

"What?" Naota asked, feeling his patience slip.

"You remind me of someone I used to know."

"Who?" He didn't appreciate being compared to someone else; unless it was his brother.

"A human," Haruko said, as though that weren't the most obvious thing in the world. Unless, of course, she wasn't from this world. "You're twelve?"

"Yeah." Kamon must have informed Haruko of that. Naota didn't remember telling her. "How old are—?"

"What's the deal with that high school chick?" Haruko cut Naota off. "You like older women?" She cracked that feline smirk, which—as far as Naota was concerned—insinuated that she was referring to herself. He figured that she had to be in her twenties.

"She's dating Tasuku," Naota said, but that was no longer true. Mamimi's denial rubbed off on him sometimes, though.

Ever since his brother had moved to America, Mamimi had been using Naota as a replacement. He'd even inherited Tasuku's old nickname, which Haruko had begun to use, as well. Naota had mixed feelings about that. All his life, he'd tried to walk in Tasuku's footsteps. At the same time, he wanted to be acknowledged as an indiviual.

"You were close?"

Naota reflected on the childhood he'd shared with his older brother; the silent admiration he'd harbored. "No."

Another awkward silence fell over them after that. That is, until Haruko grew bored with the silence, and proceeded to sing out of tune. She was ace at slapping bass, but she couldn't sing for shit.

"What is that?" Naota said, unfamiliar with the English words.

"Jimi Hendrix."

"You speak English?"

"I speak a lot of languages." Haruko climbed down from the top bunk and sat on Naota's bed. Japanese wasn't even her first, she said. When asked what it was, she answered in a foreign tongue that Naota wasn't able to comprehend.

"That's not a language."

Haruko curled up next to Naota, close enough for him to feel the heat radiating off her. The preteen flinched, as though she'd burned him.

"Stop it," Naota said, expanding the distance between them. What was it with older women coming onto him?

Haruko chuckled, grinning like a cheshire cat. She was rather cat-like in all respects: her voice, her smile, the shape of her eyes; her friskiness, (selective) laziness, and inclination to do things on her own terms. For a moment, Naota wondered if she could communicate with Miyu Miyu; Haruko talked to him a lot. "You're no fun, Takkun."


End file.
